Goodson led the way in his red convertible. He waved at Carrie as he turned onto the road.

When she got home, there was a message on the machine.

It was an assistant from the Stoneybrook PD. She asked for Carrie and told her to call right away. She did.

This time, the woman put Carrie through directly to the chief, a man named Sherman.

“You’re with Middleton PD?” he asked. His voice was surprisingly strained and tentative.

Carrie knew when it was time to stretch the truth, and when it was time to play it straight. “No,” Carrie said. “I’m the daughter of Mike Keene. He’s the chief of police here.”

“Oh,” he said. You could tell he was trying to decide how to digest that. He apparently decided it didn’t matter. “Well, this man you described. You said he’s calling himself Adam Goodson? And he’s selling candy bars?”

“Right. He’s recruiting kids. Hiring them as his salespeople.”

Sherman’s voice broke. “Does he…did he show up with any kids? Did he bring anyone with him?”

“No,” Carrie said. “Why? Do you know him?”

The chief sounded distressed. Which is probably why he told Carrie what he did. “No, not under that name. But it sounds a lot like a man we had here this summer. He was selling magazine subscriptions. He, uh, he had a lot of kids sign up to help him. He took them on a business trip, to go to other cities, and work there. Parents signed permission slips, all that.”

Sherman paused. “You’re sure he didn’t have any kids with him?”

“Yes, I’m sure. He’s alone, except for a couple guys he hired to help him. But I’m pretty sure they’re local.”

“See, the thing is…we haven’t heard from any of our kids since. We’ve been looking for them. We…we’re getting pretty desperate. And I finally found your message — ”

Sherman was still talking, but Carrie had already hung up on him. She called her dad’s assistant, explained as fast as she could, and hung up on him, too. Her dad would mobilize the whole department once he got the message — she’d been right too often for him to ignore her — but it would take time. Carrie was already out the door.

It wasn’t about the candy, or the boxes, or smuggling. He wanted the kids.

He’d literally lured kids to a white van with candy — and she hadn’t seen it.

Carrie took a deep breath, then ducked around the corner, shotgun ready.

She pointed it right in the face of Wade Wellman.

He didn’t look happy to be rescued. Carrie wondered how he got out of his motel room, but decided it didn’t matter.

“Wade,” she said. “Run. Get out of here. I’ll get the others.”